


Epiphany

by ForForever19



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, New York City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForForever19/pseuds/ForForever19
Summary: 'Rachel wouldn't really call it an epiphany, but something definitely happens the first time Cassandra July gets right into her personal space and insults her.'ORRachel Berry has a Capital-T-Type.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Comments: 21
Kudos: 375





	Epiphany

**Disclaimer** : I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**Epiphany**

* * *

Rachel wouldn't really call it an epiphany, but something definitely happens the first time Cassandra July gets right into her personal space and insults her.

If Rachel is being honest, she can't recall the exact words the woman says. She's almost trained herself not to _hear_ the vitriol, but the look on her face and glint in her eye is unmistakeable.

And disturbingly familiar.

So is the tingling in Rachel's lower belly and general breathlessness. The thing is she's never really recognised it for what it is until this moment, and she releases the tiniest of gasps, which makes Cassandra July's smirk grow into something particularly knowing.

And dangerous.

Then, the woman asks, "See something you like?" in that frustrating, infuriating way, and the thing is that _yes_ , Rachel _does_.

It's involuntary, the way she licks her lips and takes in a shaky breath.

"That's what I thought," Cassandra says, looking entirely too smug now, and Rachel will rue giving her this much power at a later time.

Now, though, she's in the middle of a frightening revelation, because she _does_ see what she likes, and it's definitely not the first time. Definitely not with this woman, either.

Rachel blinks, a sudden crease in her brow. That's -

What does -

Cassandra laughs, and it doesn't sound kind in any way. "Oh, wow," she says. "Is this actually your sexual awakening happening right now?" Her laugh is mean, but Rachel doesn't really notice. What she does notice is that this reaction isn't novel; isn't even a little bit new to her.

But, the person in front of her is.

Rachel's frown deepens, her breathing still unsteady, because she's been in a position like this before. Just with a different blonde standing entirely too close to her and hissing insults at her that should make her cower, but rather draws her attention to the green of her eyes and the seductive curl of her mouth.

"Did I break you?" Cassandra asks, now more amused than anything. "Tell me I didn't. I mean, where would the fun be in that?"

Rachel can't bring herself to respond, or even react, because the words mean nothing when she's too focused on her own thoughts to register them. Just the intent behind them stirs something within her, and it's the moment she _knows_.

She has a type.

She gasps, more audible this time, and Cassandra laughs again, calls her a handful of other derogatory names, and Rachel's gaze snaps up to meet her gaze, which actually shuts her up. Because Rachel is having a life-changing moment, and she hates that she has this demon woman to thank for it.

But, it's unmistakable. She can't possibly ignore what she's seeing, and her general reaction to what's right in front of her.

Cassandra's eyes are green, and she has sleek blonde hair. She's mean and composed, poised for attack, a certain intelligence in her gaze. She's certain, unforgiving and guarded. She pokes and prods and says words that, on face value, are meant to hurt, but are designed to push Rachel to achieve more than she even thought possible.

Rachel Berry _definitely_ has a type, and, the second she realises it, she laughs out loud at the sheer absurdity of it all.

The sound startles Cassandra, and she steps back. "What the - "

Rachel just laughs again, because of course she would be attracted to her heathen of a teacher. Cassandra is basically just an older version of -

"What on earth are you doing?" Cassandra asks, and Rachel really has no idea. "You're even more deranged than I thought."

"Not deranged," Rachel finds herself saying.

"You're not going to stalk me, are you?" she asks, "because I've had that happen before, and I'm capable of ruining careers before they even begin."

Rachel shakes her head. "You're so full of yourself, did you know that?"

She shrugs, unapologetic. "I have reason to be."

Rachel, at least, can agree with that. "Don't worry," she says. "You're safe." She smiles to herself. "It's not you."

"What?"

Rachel's smile grows. "It's not you," she repeats, nodding to herself. "But, thank you."

Cassandra just looks even more confused, but Rachel isn't bothered to respond. Instead, she surprises them both by throwing her arms around Cassandra in an abrupt hug that last less than a moment, and then bounces away.

"You're going to regret that," Cassandra calls after her, but Rachel ignores her, locating her bag and then racing from the studio. She's determined, suddenly filled with all this new knowledge and deeply aware that she's been experiencing intense attraction for years, and just never knew it.

Wow.

Just, wow.

She's practically buzzing by the time she gets back to the loft. She needs to talk to Kurt. Even Santana. She's just had this massive awakening, and she needs to get the words out, probably hear them tell her _I told you so_ , but she won't even care about that. Because she's figured it out. She understands why she's always been so drawn to -

What Rachel doesn't expect, when she slides open the heavy door is to find not only Kurt and Santana in their living area, but also Quinn Fabray.

Rachel freezes in the doorway.

Shit.

She forgot Quinn was supposed to be visiting this weekend. That's - that's not ideal. Coming right at the same time Rachel's having her big, earth-shaking moment.

"There she is," Santana says, eyeing her curiously, as if she's already figured out something has changed just from one look at her. Santana's kind of irritating like that.

Rachel giggles nervously, and then turns to slide the door closed behind her. Her heart was already beating too fast, but it's positively galloping now. She was expecting some time to get her head wrapped around this new discovery; possibly even get to talk to her roommates about it, but now -

Quinn is smiling at her when she turns around again, Kurt looking exhausted after a long week, and Santana is visibly trying to read her. It's all too much all of a sudden, and she squeaks out something probably inaudible, and then rushes to her room, her breathing erratic.

She dumps her bags on the ground, and then falls face first onto her bed. She buries her face in a pillow and groans, loudly, in an attempt to calm herself before she ends up making some kind of fool herself. She needed time, but now she's going to have to get through this weekend without -

There's a knock against her dresser, and her head snaps up immediately to spy a pale, distinctly female hand sticking through the sheet that doubles as her door, knuckles resting against wood.

Rachel rolls over onto her back and closes her eyes, heaving a sigh. Of course. She can't even get one minute to gather herself. This is happening, and it seems it's happening right now.

"Come in," she says softly, and Quinn instantly appears; Rachel can hear her.

"I brought you some lemonade," Quinn says, and she can hear the tink of ice in a glass. "You look like you need it."

Rachel doesn't dare open her eyes, because, if she's attracted to fiery blondes who love nothing more than to get right in her face; then she's feeling a hell of a lot more when it comes to their softer sides.

"Rough day?" Quinn asks when Rachel doesn't respond. Rachel can hear her getting closer, and then there's a dip on the edge of the bed as Quinn settles her weight. "Rough _week_?"

Rachel reaches out blindly, making contact with Quinn's knee. She just rests her hand there, saying nothing.

Quinn lets out a low chuckle, and Rachel risks opening one eye. Which is a mistake. Quinn is looking at her with the softest expression, understanding in her eyes and a small smile gracing her features.

It's too much, after the day she's had, and Rachel's eye closes once more. She hears Quinn set the glass on her nightstand - hopefully on something to act as a coaster - and then she shifts again, leaning back and sliding her long legs onto the bed.

Quinn asks, "Do you want to talk about it?" very quietly, and Rachel is about to respond in the negative when she feels light fingers in her hair.

Her eyes tighten, before she forces herself to relax. "It's - " she starts, and then stops when Quinn removes the tie from her hair, both hands fanning out the strands over her pillow.

"It's what?" Quinn prompts.

Rachel sighs, feeling as if she's melting into her comforter at the feel of Quinn's ministrations. "Have you ever just believed one thing about yourself for so long, and then something happens, and you realise that thing you've believed is not true at all?"

Quinn doesn't immediately respond, which Rachel appreciates. "Yes," she finally says. "Yes, I have."

"Oh."

Quinn shifts again, and Rachel doesn't dare look to see what she's doing. "Did something happen?" she asks, and her voice sounds closer now, right near Rachel's ear.

"I've told you about Cassandra July," Rachel starts.

Quinn makes a sound that could be considered a growl. "And I told you I would come down there and give her a dressing-down if you just said the word."

Rachel doesn't have to be looking to know there's fire in Quinn's eyes and a slight curl to her upper lip. She can hear it just from the snarl in Quinn's voice, and she finds her entire body heating up at merely the thought.

Wow.

She _does_ have a type.

"Quinn," Rachel says, and her voice sounds a little breathless. "You don't have to do that."

"But I would," Quinn insists, and then seems to relax, fingers threading through Rachel's hair once more. "Anyway, you were telling me what she did."

"She helped me realise something today," Rachel explains. "Something big."

"About your career?"

"No."

Quinn remains quiet, probably realising Rachel is going to take her time getting everything out.

"About me," she finally says. "She helped me realise that the way I've been reacting to..." she trails off. "Just, I now know something very particular about myself, and I'm still trying to figure out what my next step is going to be."

Quinn shifts closer. "May I help?"

This time, when Rachel opens her eyes, she expects to find Quinn's face right in front of her own, and she isn't disappointed. "Hi," she whispers.

Quinn's smile is gentle, knowing. "Hi."

"I'm so glad you're here," she says, rolling onto her side so she can face Quinn properly. "I missed you."

Quinn blushes, just enough to be noticeable. "I missed you, too," she murmurs, and Rachel wonders how it's taken her so long to figure out how she feels about this particular blonde beauty.

If she's being honest, Rachel is actually irritated that it's taken _Cassandra July_ to figure it all out, because Quinn has been right in front of her the entire time.

"Do you want to talk about it some more?" Quinn eventually asks.

"Talk about what?"

"Your epiphany."

Rachel considers it for a moment, because that's exactly what it was, wasn't it? Cassandra July, right in her face, forcing her to accept what she's always known. But, it wasn't her.

It wasn't _her_.

Because, now, she's here with Quinn Fabray, and everything feels heady and familiar, and Rachel just wants to get closer.

"What time did you get in?" Rachel asks, not quite ready to get into it and deftly switching topics.

"Not that long ago," Quinn tells her, easily allowing the change. "I had a coffee date, and then I caught the train immediately after."

Rachel sucks in a breath. "A coffee date?" she asks, and positively hates the way her voice trembles.

Quinn crinkles her nose. "James set us up, but it was such a disaster. I don't even know why he thought we'd be compatible."

"Why did it go so wrong?"

Here, Quinn pauses. "Well," she says carefully; "she's not really what I'm looking for."

And, the thing is, Quinn's use of pronouns shouldn't surprise her - because they don't - but they kind of do sometimes. It's been something understood but not explicitly talked about since the night Quinn and Santana shared on what should have been Mr Schuester's wedding.

Though, even that night isn't something they've ever talked about before. Quinn has been exploring that side of herself, slowly and a little skittishly, but she's putting herself out there, and, as much as Rachel loves it, she also _hates_ it.

"What are you looking for?" Rachel finds herself asking.

Quinn gives it some thought. "Santana seems to think I have a type," she admits after a moment, and Rachel resists the urge to snort, because Quinn isn't the only one.

"Do you?"

Quinn chuckles, softly and breathily. "I'm starting to think so."

"Care to share with the class?" she teases, but her heart is hammering in her chest at the way Quinn is looking at her. There's something in her gaze that isn't new, and Rachel is just now starting to figure out what it must mean.

"Brunette," Quinn says, eyes locked onto Rachel's. "Petite. Kind. Absurdly talented. Ambitious. Adorable. Persistent. Tactile. Fucking gorgeous." She breathes deeply. "Close."

Rachel blinks a little stupidly.

Is that -

Is Quinn saying what she thinks -

"And, this girl you went on a coffee date with wasn't any of those things?"

Quinn shrugs with a soft smile. "Well, she _was_ a brunette."

If she's being honest, nothing about anything Quinn has said has made her feel better. Just more anxious; more out of sorts. Especially given what she's just learned about herself. Being attracted to some type of person is one thing, but having that certain type of person right in front of you is something else entirely.

"But not the other things?" Rachel asks, voice low in volume. She needs to know; she needs confirmation that Quinn isn't suddenly going to be taken with this mystery girl.

"I think that's a special type of person," Quinn says.

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Doesn't sound too special to me," she scoffs.

"Oh?"

"I mean, she basically sounds like me." The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them, and she doesn't know how to take them back.

Quinn's eyebrows shoot up, and it's difficult to tell what she's thinking. "Does she?" she asks.

Rachel just buries her face in her hands and groans. "Ignore me," she mumbles against her palms.

Quinn chuckles softly, hands reaching to move Rachel's out of the way. "I could never ignore you," she says. "Believe me, I've tried."

Rachel looks at her. Like, _really_ looks at her, and there's something in her gaze that makes Rachel stupid. "I don't want you going on coffee dates," she states, surprising even herself.

"Excuse me?" Quinn asks, and her voice goes a little high.

Rachel moves back slightly, a little panicked. "I mean, I don't want you going on coffee dates - " she stops, and Quinn is looking at her expectantly. "With anyone who isn't me."

Quinn just stares at her for a long, long while, saying nothing and giving little visible reaction. "Is _this_ your epiphany?" she finally asks.

The edges of Rachel's mouth quirk upwards. "You're not the only one with a type, Fabray," she murmurs.

"Oh?"

"Blonde," she says, gesturing rather vaguely at Quinn's hair. "Tall. Thoughtful. Passionate. Cute. Determined. Focused. Protective. Damn pretty. Definitely also ambitious." She takes her own deep breath. "Close."

Quinn doesn't say anything for a long moment, but then she smiles something that could be considered a smirk, if she wasn't blushing so darkly. "Huh," she murmurs. "That basically sounds like me."

Rachel remains silent, watching Quinn's face.

"You think I'm cute?" Quinn eventually asks.

"And, you think I'm adorable," she points out.

Quinn grins at her. "I do," she confirms so easily that Rachel wonders if she's dreaming this entire evening. "You're many things."

"Brunette," Rachel says.

"That, too," Quinn agrees, closing what little distance Rachel has forced between them.

"What else?" Rachel asks.

"The most important," Quinn says softly, and the air is suddenly charged with _something_.

"Close?" Rachel prompts.

Quinn smiles widely. "Petite."

Rachel gasps loudly, and then giggles. "I know we're going a little roundabout here, but I want to be absolutely certain here," she says, sounding just a little breathless. "You _are_ saying that I'm yo - "

"You're my type."

Rachel meets her gaze. "I'm your type," she confirms. "And you're mine."

"Because I'm tall?"

"That, too," Rachel mimics, and Quinn's grin grows. She really is very pretty.

"Well, what do you say?" Quinn muses. "Who would have known?"

"I certainly didn't," Rachel says. "Not until today."

"Because of Cassandra July?" Quinn asks, and she sounds only a little surly about it.

Rachel chuckles knowingly, moving her hand to rest on Quinn's shoulder, fingertips light on the skin of her neck.

"Because of _you_ ," Rachel assures her. "CJ just helped me realise it."

"Realise what, exactly?"

"That you should be going on coffee dates with me, and only me."

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Are you asking, or are you telling?"

Rachel gives her an innocent smile. "Both."

Quinn rolls her eyes and says, "You're lucky I like you."

Rachel hums in agreement. "I'm starting to see that, yes."

Quinn just watches her for a long while, and Rachel notes all the little ways her body begins to relax. She almost leans right into Rachel's space, and Rachel can smell her: something distinctly _Quinn_ , mixed with apples and cinnamon.

"Can I ask something?" Quinn asks.

"Anything."

"Is it really me?" she asks, and there's a hint of vulnerability in her tone that makes Rachel's heart ache in her chest. "I'm sure there are lots of other protective blondes out there for you, if you just went looking."

"Well, it's a good thing I've got what I didn't even know I was looking for right in front of me."

Quinn still looks thoughtful, Rachel's words not quite enough to assuage her worries. She has this adorable crinkle between her eyebrows, a small pout on her lips, and Rachel feels so silly for ever not noticing the way her entire body just burns with the desire to touch.

So, she does.

Her right hand lifts to smooth the crease in Quinn's forehead with the pad of her thumb. "It is you," she confirms softly, genuinely. "It really is you," she adds, firmer this time. "I just - I didn't see it at first - and numerous other times after that - but my eyes are open now, and it's you. Gosh. It's always been you, hasn't it?"

Quinn's features loosen, relaxing. "Are you asking, or are you telling?" she asks, an echo of a previous question.

"Both," she returns with a soft smile, her eyes drifting from hazel eyes to pink lips, and then back up. Quinn is smiling knowingly, and Rachel feels red bloom on her cheeks. "Both, Quinn."

Quinn's smile widens. "So," she murmurs. "You're serious about this?"

Rachel nods, eyes drifting once more. Propriety says she should wait, but she also knows she's waited long enough for this moment. It's a wonder how quickly she's gone from realisation to revelation to confession, and now to action. Her heart rate is rising in her chest, her fingertips burning where she's touching Quinn's skin. All she has to do is lean in a little, and -

"Yo, we're ordering pizza!" Santana suddenly shouts, and both of them startle out of their intense stare. "Stop flirting and come convince me to order that vegan shit you insist is just as good as the real thing."

Rachel meets Quinn gaze again, less heavy this time, and then they both burst into a fit of giggles. Her roommates have the worst timing.

Quinn eventually sighs, presses a lingering kiss to Rachel's forehead, and then starts to get up from the bed.

Rachel reaches for her wrist, stopping her. She gulps when Quinn looks back at her, expectant. "I _am_ asking," she says, her tone serious. "Will you go out with me? I - I find I want to make up for all this time we've wasted. So, yeah, I'm asking, Quinn."

Quinn blinks, seemingly caught off guard. "You are persistent, aren't you?" she murmurs.

Rachel's fingers trail over the back of Quinn's hand, eliciting a shiver in response. "Tactile, too," she comments lightly, and Quinn's mouth spreads into a smile.

"Okay," Quinn says. "I'll go out with you."

"Because I'm your type."

Quinn rolls her eyes, and then leans forward at the same time Rachel does, their lips meeting in a soft kiss. "No," she whispers against Rachel's mouth; "because I'm yours."

Rachel's laugh bursts out of her, and she kisses Quinn again, making sure to ignore the sound of Santana's voice when she calls for them again. All she knows is she's here with Quinn; the only person she wants in this moment.

Come Monday morning, she might even be willing to thank Cassandra July again for this.

But, for right now, she's going to bask in the sweet taste of this epiphany.

* * *

_Fin_


End file.
